Last Hurrah
by Nicolette C-137
Summary: Clyde is determined to see that Token enjoys their grad party.


**Disclaimer: I do not own South Park or any of the following characters.**

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

Everyone looked forward to Token's parties, which he threw on certain holidays, and occasionally when his parents were away for a weekend. The premise was spacious enough to accommodate the entire student body, and equipped with an open bar (from which Token's guests would help themselves to his parents' liquor), a buffet table, and a ballroom with a kick-ass sound system. Ritualistic behavior was expected of certain partygoers. You would surely stumble upon a drunken Stan at the bar, or Christophe on the smokers' balcony, or Tweek in the bathroom with a line of white powder, or Kenny in a spare bedroom with some chick, or a passed-out Butters with dicks drawn on his face in permanent marker. The only one who could never fully let loose, was unsurprisingly the host. Token would barely even drink, so that he could stay focused. He'd always need to keep tabs on how much liquor was missing from which bottles, and make sure that no one spilled their drinks, or Kyle and Cartman didn't break anything valuable during one of their drunken fights. He'd worry about the messes he'd eventually have to clean. Well, not _this_ time... No more of this Sober Sally bullshit... Clyde was determined to make sure that Token had a time he'd surely forget.

"I'll help you clean tomorrow. It'll be done by the time your parents are back. If anything breaks, just say you bumped into whatever it was, and accidentally knocked it over. They don't need to know you had a _party,_ bro," Clyde pressed, adjusting the snapback he always wore backwards. The guys were in the kitchen, waiting for Tweek's pot of coffee to brew. "They're your _parents._ They'll still love you, even if you get a stain on their carpet. Besides, you've gotten away with throwing a dozen parties. You'd be lucky for them to have found out about only _one_ of them. What's the worst they'll do? Ground you... Isn't that worth enjoying our graduation party?" Clyde was especially thrilled to be done with high school. He'd been accepted into the Community College of Denver, and was ready to pledge himself to a fraternity.

"Okay, okay." Token sighed. "You make a compelling argument." He grabbed the Solo cup from Clyde's hand, and chugged its remains. "Are you happy?"

"Well, I would've been happier if you'd gotten your _own_ drink." Clyde shoved himself away from the wall he'd been leaning against. "Let's do shots!" Token followed him somewhat reluctantly out of the kitchen.

"Wait for me!" Tweek yelled, though Craig already had.

* * *

In the game room, Kyle and Cartman were competitively playing Pool, while Stan predictably drank at the bar. Tweek joined Stan behind the counter, surveying the labels for the Kahlua he'd planned to add to his coffee.

"'Sup, broski?" Clyde slid onto one of the bar stools, eyeing the tray on the counter. "Are these Jell-o shots?" He asked rhetorically.

"Yeah, Cartman made 'em." Stan hiccuped. "His new phisolophy—phisolo—philosophy," he drunkenly stuttered, "is, 'Why drink alcohol, when you can eat it?,' or some shit."

Clyde threw one back, and offered another to Token, who declined in favor of perusing the wine rack. "If you're making me do this, I'm at least doing it _my_ way." Token popped the cork off a bottle of Champagne; which didn't bubble, to Clyde's disappointment. "Classy." Like the obnoxious bro that he was, Clyde still hooted and hollered, pounding his fists against the countertop.

"'Ey! You messed up my shot, asshole," Cartman barked at Clyde. "I saw that!" He returned Craig's gesture; flipping him off. "Don't make me come over there, and shove this pool stick up your ass!" While he was distracted, Kyle took his next strike, pocketing two solids. "Goddamn it!"

"Hey, do you have any weed on you, Tweekers?" Clyde asked the twitchy blonde, ignoring Cartman altogether.

"Duh." Tweek leisurely sipped his spiked coffee. "Got a lot more than that."

"I told you to take it easy with that stuff," Craig whispered to his boyfriend.


End file.
